Hetalia Ficlets
by Avail
Summary: A collection of Nordic-centric stories. Various characters, themes and situations. Each story has a more detailed summary
1. Morning Routine

**Title: **Morning Routine  
**Rating:** G  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Norway, Denmark  
**Word Count:** 250  
**Warning/s: **None  
**Summary**: Denmark has a secret.  
**A/N:** For kapptastic, who infected me with this headcanon when she made me fix her cosplay wig.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

Denmark's known for his handsomely disheveled hair- tousled _just so, _to give the impression that he's just tumbled out of some lucky partner's bed. The women at his office give him admiring glances as they pass and the men wonder just what product he used to achieve that look. It's part of his look, to match the lanky figure and confident swagger.

Norway watches it all and scoffs at everyone who falls for it.

He knows better- because every morning, at some awful hour before the sun is up, he's awoken by frantic knocking on his door. He opens the door to find Denmark with a hat shoved on his head, crouching in the dawn as if he's trying to hide. He's greeted with wide, pleading eyes and a "Next time, I'll get it right by myself. Promise!" So each morning, Norway will stare and sigh and drag Denmark into his bathroom, where he spends far too long trying to untangle whatever mess the idiot has managed to make out of his hair _this _time.

When he's done, Denmark gives him a sunny smile and hurries outside to do who knows what, full of enthusiasm and ready to take on the world. Norway drags himself to his kitchen and prepares a cup of industrial strength coffee. He yawns and grumbles under his breath about imbeciles who can't do anything right on their own.

The rest of the nations think he'd be less snappish if he got a little more sleep.


	2. Moshata

**Title**: Moshata  
**Rating**: PG  
**Character(s)**/**Pairing(s)**: vaguely Sweden/Finland

**Word Count**: 256  
**Warning/s:** None, really. Human names used.  
**Summary**: Sweden accompanies Finland to a metal show.  
**A/N:** Because in my mind, Finland is a badass metal fan. "_Moshata_" is the Finnish word for headbanging/moshing.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

Tino's a whole different person at a metal concert, Berwald thinks.

The hall is dim, occasionally lit with flashes from the spotlights and the music is heavy and pounding in his ears. Berwald glances around briefly and realizes that he's lost sight of Tino.

His eyes sweep over the crowd and he spots the other man diving into the mosh pit. There's none of his endearing hesitance- he's fearless as he jumps into a mass of larger bodies. There's no self consciousness- his hair is sweaty and tangled, and he's all in black, proudly wearing a ripped shirt with FUCK printed all over it. There's nothing clumsy about him as he shouts and thrashes with the rest of the metalheads.

Berwald quickly follows after him. He doesn't have much a choice, never has really. Besides, someone needs to watch out for him. Who knows what could happen to the smaller man?

At the end of the show, Berwald's head is ringing from the noise. He has a cut on his lip from someone's overenthusiastic arm. The mere thought of what the bruises on his torso will look like make him cringe. He's missing his glasses and squinting into the dark, because at one point, Tino accidentally knocked them off his head. He's tired and sore and has a meeting to attend early tomorrow.

But as he watches Tino's ecstatic face and sparkling eyes (and there's not a mark on him) as he chatters on about how great the show was, Berwald thinks it's all worth it.


	3. Dropping Anchor

**Title**: Dropping Anchor  
**Rating**: G**  
Character(s)/****Pairing(s)**: Norway, mentions of the other Nordics.  
**Word Count**: 336  
**Warning/s:** None  
**Summary**: Norway misses the sea.  
**A/N:** Written for the prompt _"door"_ though I think it got a bit away from me. For ambiance, I'd suggest listening to Bjork's "The Anchor Song"

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

Norway misses the sea. He feels stifled sometimes at board meetings and wishes he could feel the salt wind in his hair. Occasionally, he takes a long walk towards the docks, and watches the fishing boats bring in their hauls. He stays there, watching until it's dark and the only noise heard is the crashing waves.

He misses the sea, that wide blue door to endless new worlds and adventures. But they're all older now, and the world has become smaller. Still, every once in a while, when he's listening to the stories of grizzled sailors in bars, or when he's pulling in the sails to his small dinghy, he'll feel the familiar twinge of wanderlust. He'll forget that meeting on tariffs planned for next week. He'll forget that he needs to check on Iceland's economy (like a good older brother should.) He'll ignore the emails from his assistants that are piling up on his computer.

There's only him and the sea right now. He feels the shallow waves breaking against his bare feet and he can almost imagine it's centuries ago, when the world was young and the sea called to be conquered and explored. Norway looks to the horizon and remembers that yearning to find what lies beyond.

He jumps a bit when he feels the phone buzz in his pocket. Blinking once, he reads the text message and slowly heads to his house. He doesn't look back.

Once he reaches home, he stands at the threshold looking around the room. Iceland and Sealand are oblivious, sitting on the floor, playing some racing game. Denmark grins up at him from where he's sprawled out on the couch and returns to egging both boys on. Norway can hear Finland's voice, bright and cheerful, drifting from the kitchen and a heavy shuffle and occasional low murmur means Sweden is also there helping.

There's a tiny smile on Norway's face as he quietly closes the door on the sea behind him. This horizon will do just fine.


	4. Better Than Counting Sheep

**Title**: Better Than Counting Sheep

**Rating**: G  
**Character(s)**/**Pairing(s)**: Iceland, Norway  
**Word Count**: 577  
**Warning/s**: total brotherly sappiness? o.O  
**Summary**: Iceland has trouble sleeping and Norway tries to help.  
**A/N: **I have such a THING for the bro-ness in Hetalia + I still hadn't written Iceland = this. *shrug* xD Blame it on being an older sibling.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

Iceland huffs as he turns in bed for what feels like the hundredth time. He grabs a pillow and presses it over his face, hoping that maybe _this_ will help him fall asleep. When he starts to run out of air instead, he tosses the pillow aside and glares blearily at the bedside clock. 2:06 am.

A violent snowstorm has been going on all day and night and the window long since frosted over, making the room seem even darker. Iceland curls further into his blankets as a particularly strong gust rattles the frame. He tells himself that he is perfectly safe inside and the storm will die down soon. Only babies get scared of the dark and cold and howling wind and he is an _adult_. (He's not scared anyway, he just can't sleep, thank you very much)

The sounds of the wind picking up again make him sit up a bit and look towards the clock again. 2:17. Damn— at this rate, he'll never get to sleep. Iceland looks around the empty room, holding no immediate relief, and decides it's time for desperate measures. He wraps the covers firmly over his head (not to block out the sound of the wind of course, he's just cold) and reaches for the phone.

He's biting his lip by the fifth ring and is about to hang up when—

"...Ice? Wha— It's...4. Did something happen?" Norway's voice is low and thick with sleep.

"No... I—"

Norway waits patiently on the line. "...I can't sleep." Iceland's voice sounds tiny, even to his own ears.

"It's that storm, right? Saw the news reports." His brother's voice is gentle. Iceland hums his agreement, hunched over the phone. Neither of them speak for several moments.

There's some rustling on the other side and then Norway speaks up again, his tone fond. "I remember something that used to help you fall asleep. Or are you too old for that?"

Iceland frowns at the question and doesn't respond. He _is_ too old for this. He's pretty sure that he'll regret calling in the morning when he's reminded how insufferable Norway can get if something Iceland does reminds him of the past. But he also remembers being much smaller, when thunderstorms would chase him into Norway's chambers and nothing other than his brother's presence could soothe him. He stays quiet on the line, and can practically feel the smile on Norway's face as his brother's voice comes through the phone.

"I don't hear any objections..."

Iceland stalls a bit longer, until he realizes the clinking on the window means it's started to _hail_. A chill comes rushing up his back and he caves in.

"...fine."

Norway's voice is low as he begins to hum the simple tune, an old lullaby every child would have heard at some point. It brings back memories to Iceland, of resting his head on Norway's lap after a cup of warm milk and drifting to sleep, a protective arm over him. It meant being warm and safe, knowing his big brother was nearby.

_"Sofðu unga ástin mín,  
- úti regnið grætur.  
Mamma geymir gullin þín,  
gamla leggi og völuskrín.  
Við skulum ekki vaka um dimmar nætur._

_Það er margt, sem myrkrið veit,_  
_- minn er hugur þungur._  
_Oft ég svartan sandinn leit_  
_svíða grænan engireit._  
_Í jöklinum búa dauða djupar sprungur._

_Sofðu lengi, sofðu rótt,_  
_- seint mun best að vakna._  
_Mæðan kenna mun þér fljótt,_  
_meðan hallar degi skjótt._  
_Að mennirnir elska, missa, gráta og sakna."_

By the time Norway finishes the final notes of the song, there's no sound over the line. He can only just make out the sound of Iceland's slow, steady breathing. Norway smiles a bit as he hangs up the phone.

"Night little brother..."

* * *

Every Icelandic lullaby I found was super morbid. y so angsty, Iceland? D:

And the rough translation:_  
_

_"Sleep my young love... Outside the rain cries  
Mommy keeps your gold... old leg bones and chest of stones*"  
We shall not be awake on dark nights...  
The darkness knows so plenty..._

_-My mind is heavy  
Often black sands I gazed at  
Hurting green fields  
In the glacier lives dead deep cracks..._

_Sleep well, sleep tight_  
_-Better to wake up later_  
_Mother will teach you sooner_  
_'til the sun reaches the horizon_  
_That men love, lose, cry and long for._


	5. Even Exchange

**Title**: Even Exchange  
**Rating**: PG- 15  
**Character(s)**/**Pairing(s)**: Denmark/fem!Norway  
**Word Count**: 355  
**Warning/s**: non-specific sex, genderbend  
**Summary**: Denmark muses on what he likes about Norway.  
**A/N:** Written for my own amusement to see if I could pull off 'vaguely porny' and because I like the idea of an aggressive Norway. It ain't explicit, but it's all there.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

For all her placid demeanor, Norway is ruthless in bed, and Denmark wouldn't have it any other way. He enjoys that she isn't shy of pulling his hair just a bit too hard and dragging him in for a rough kiss. She stakes her claim on his skin and Denmark likes every mark left behind. She pushes him on his back and does damn well as she pleases. She'll trace over the scars on his body, making him remember the story behind each one. She'll put her mouth on him and make him forget it all just as easily, as she rakes her fingernails up his thighs.

Denmark loves that she gives as good as she gets, her hips meeting his on each thrust. He likes to see the curve of her body as she moves with him and her eyes staring up, demanding more. She never says much, but Denmark thinks the little pants and sighs he wrings out of her are the loveliest sounds in the world.

His favorite thing is the little keening noise Norway makes when he kisses her, long and hard until they're both breathless and that pretty mouth of hers is stained red. He wonders if Norway knows she does it, and just what effect it has on him.

And when they're done, stretched out next to each other, he'll admire whatever part of her is closest. The fall of her hair over the pillow, the curve of a shoulder, the slope of her spine or the arch of her leg. Denmark will reach out and pull her close (ignoring any kicks or swats or "I just want to sleep, you idiot") and mouth sweet words against the curve of her neck. Sometimes Denmark wraps a lock of hair around his finger until she's forced to turn around and face him. The he'll just smile, watching her face until it softens, and he'll press a last gentle kiss to her cheek before falling asleep himself.

Because if Norway's too rough, then Denmark is too tender. But they've always balanced each other, and neither would change it for the world.


	6. On Line

**Title**: On Line  
**Rating**: G  
**Character(s)**/**Pairing(s)**: Iceland, Denmark, Hong Kong  
**Word Count**: 296  
**Warning/s**: none  
**Summary**: Iceland is easily embarrassed and Denmark isn't making things easier.  
**A/N:** My headcanon Iceland has him as that teen who is constantly texting about how embarrassing his family is. This is what came out when I tried to write about it. XD

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

_From: Iceland_

_3:12pm: I think Sealand had the right idea selling himself on ebay_

_From: Hong Kong_

_3:15pm: It can't b that bad. Whats ur brother doin this time?_

_From: Iceland_

_3:16pm: Not him. at the market with denmark_

_3:17pm: Dan saw the cereal aisle and starting singing jingles for ALL of them. Hiding in the frozen foods section right now._

_From: Hong Kong_

_3:20pm: ahahaha— film him n put it online._

_From: Iceland_

_3:24pm: help  
_

Iceland groaned as Denmark's voice rang through the aisles, "Ice! ICEEEE, where'd ya go?" He'd been trying to be nice when he offered to accompany Denmark to the store. He had seen Sweden's expression, the one where he's _this_ close to punching Denmark on the jaw, just to make him shut up. So Iceland, in a very rare self sacrificing mood, had taken the shopping list (and Denmark's car keys) and forced the other man out of the house.

"Shut up Mathias! I'm right here!" Iceland hissed as he shoved at the other man's arm. The back of his neck felt distinctly warm. "You're making a scene."

Denmark laughed loudly and paid him no mind.

Iceland tried to hide his humiliation as he attempted to make the other man focus on the task at hand. "Can we just finish getting the food and head back to your place?"

He was forced to spend the next half hour collecting the groceries, while trying to keep Denmark from getting distracted by every new snack aisle, or from buying more beer than they could carry, or by the pretty girl at the deli counter.

Iceland was exhausted by the time they got to register. Really, sometimes being the _adult _sucked.

**(Five minutes later)**

"_Mathias_... what do you mean you don't have your wallet?"


	7. Pirates' Progress

**Title**: Pirates' Progress  
**Rating**: G  
**Character(s)**/**Pairing(s)**: Nordic 5  
**Word Count**: 286  
**Warning/s**: silliness :|  
**Summary**: Pirates! (that about sums it up)  
**A/N:** In honor of the Halloween 2011 event, which reduced my brain to fangirl-goo for a lengthy period of time.

... Longer than I'd care to admit.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

You had to appreciate Denmark's flair for dramatics, his arms swinging frantically as he crashed through the railing and fell to the water.

*SPLASH*

Norway smirked.

"Nor! Why'd you go and do that? We already have enough repairs to make after that storm, don't add more!"

Norway shrugged, "My hand slipped." and deliberately started walking away, leaving Finland to lean out and toss their captain a rope to fish him from the sea.

Denmark grunted as he heaved himself back onto the ship. "Thanks Fin. Norge—that's so cruel of you to do that to your captain! Whyyyy?" he whined.

Norway eyed the puddle growing around Denmark's feet and then drolly replied, "You lost your eye patch." He went to join his brother, who had come up to see what all the commotion was about.

"What?" Denmark cried out, his hands flying to his face. "But it looked so good on me! You owe me a new one!"

Norway snorted. "Hardly. It looked ridiculous anyway."

He turned his back on Denmark's indignant sputtering and looked at Finland. "Think Sweden is done fixing the pumps?"

The other man shook his head. "No—I just spoke with him. It'll be a while longer. But the food's ready. That's what I was on my way to let you all know."

Norway nodded and led the way back inside. As they went down the steps, Iceland sidled close to Finland and waited for his brother to be further ahead before whispering, "So what were they fighting about?"

"Hell if I know." Tino muttered. "Think about it— does he really need a reason for throwing Denmark overboard?"

Iceland considered his brother and that quick temper of his. "Yeah... Guess you're right."


End file.
